The Pale Path
The village of Oakhaven sat in a valley so deep it seemed to swallow the light, leaving only a pale, ghostly residue that clung to the stone and the damp earth. It was a place where the air tasted of iron and old rain, where the fog did not roll in but stood still, a solid wall that separated the living from the dead. Elias Thorne had lived in Oakhaven for thirty years, a clerk in the town’s...
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